Pensieve
by bexypants
Summary: Harry goes to visit Minerva later on in life and discovers her Pensieve laying open.  MMAD, references to AD/GG and other canon ships.


Harry Potter walked up to the stone Gargoyle in front of the Headmistress' office in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He gave the password, tartan, and knocked on the door to the Headmistress' chambers. He hadn't been in this office since the night of the Battle of Hogwarts, where he said his last goodbyes to his mentor's portrait. It felt weird, almost surreal, being here again. But Professor McGonagall had wanted to see him, and coming to visit the elderly witch seemed like such a small task considering all he had done for her in the past; he Cruciated a bloody Death Eater in her honor! Harry was proud to say that that was the last time he used an Unforgivable, even though his profession brought him in close contact with those curses on a regular basis. The door opened and he saw his old professor sitting at her desk, quill on paper as she acknowledged his presence.

"Good afternoon, Potter," she said, not even looking up to her guest. "Forgive me, but the Minister just won't leave me alone. I don't know how Albus did it, all these damn letters every day," she muttered.

"Oh, it's no problem, Professor."

"Potter, I haven't been your professor for thirteen years. You don't have to address me as such."

"It only feels right," he said truthfully. To be honest, he couldn't see his old Transfiguration teacher as anything but the stern, powerful witch he had grown up knowing her as.

"Very well," she said, finally looking up from the letter. "Sit down," she gestured to a seat in front of the desk. Harry did as he was told, and finally got a chance to look around. He noticed that the office was decorated differently from when Dumbledore had occupied it, but yet it still had the same comforting quality that he had gotten so used to during his sixth year. Some of Dumbledore's odd inventions were even still laying around, scattered on bookshelves and windowsills here and there.

"Not to be rude Professor, but – why did you ask me here today?"

"I was looking through some old cabinets and found some of Albus' old things stashed away. I – it – it just didn't feel right going through it alone. Everyone else who was remotely close to him is either dead or otherwise incapacitated, and –," she couldn't continue as tears were building up in her eyes. Harry had never seen his professor like this; he was so used to the strict Head of House that it was quite odd seeing her cry. He leaned closer and patted her arm awkwardly; even after all he had been through, he just never quite got the hang of comforting people.

"Oh, Merlin, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get all emotional. It's just, when I saw some of his old things, it made me realize how much I really miss him. It's been years, but it still feels like yesterday..." she trailed off. Harry took this moment to answer her original question.

"Well, I'd love to help, Professor," he told her, trying to sound as spirited as possible.

"Thank you, Potter. I'll go get them, they're in my chambers. I'm afraid a Summoning charm doesn't work on these, so it might take awhile for me to get them all out here."

"Let me do it, Professor. I don't want you straining yourself."

"Now _listen_ Potter. I may be getting older, but that does _not_ mean I cannot handle a few boxes by myself," she said with a glare.

"I'm sorry, but please, let me help," he replied with an apologetic look.

"Oh, alright. Go through that door over there," she told him, pointing to a door behind where Fawkes' perch used to be. "There should be a dozen or so. I'm going to finish my letter to the Minister and I'll be right with you. You can start going through the boxes in there, if you must, but do _not_ touch anything of mine." She shot him a warring glance, knowing very well of the curious tendencies he inherited from his mother. They had gotten him into trouble multiple times. He nodded his head and walked through the door into a room filled with large boxes filled with overflowing papers, books, gadgets and other objects. He noticed a few packages of lemon drops and a stuffed phoenix that greatly resembled Fawkes. As he walked forward to the things, he saw a glowing light coming out of a half-closed cabinet. He moved closer and realized it was a Pensieve. Dumbledore's old one, to be exact. He saw the memories swirling around in the silvery liquid, just waiting to be looked at.

_She'll be awhile, she has to finish the letter, _he thought. Then he remembered the time he saw Snape's memory when he thought he was out of the room. That had cost him his Occlumency lessons, and indirectly, he shuddered, Sirius. But something inside of him was pulling him towards the Pensieve. _If she didn't want it to be seen, then why would she have left it out?_ He took one last look behind him, making sure she wasn't coming, and stuck his head into the pool of memories.

Harry landed in the Headmaster's office, but he didn't recognize the décor as Dumbledore's, McGonagall's, or even Snape's. Then he saw the two people sitting before the man at the desk. It was Professor Dumbledore, with his auburn hair and beard, and a beautiful witch with long, black hair sitting next to him. The man before them must have been Dumbledore's predecessor, Armando Dippet. Dippet didn't look too happy with the pair in front of him.

"You know what this means, Albus. Correct?" the Headmaster asked him.

"Of course. My actions were completely inappropriate and out of line. I know the consequences."

"And you, Miss McGonagall – " Dippet started. Harry gasped. _That_ was McGonagall? Well, it would have to be, considering this was her memory; but that didn't make it any less of a shock for him.

"Professor, please. It wasn't Professor Dumbledore's fault. It was all mine. Expel me, please, but don't fire him. He's the best Transfiguration teacher Hogwarts has ever had," McGonagall said.

"I will not expel you for this, Miss McGonagall, but I will be sending an owl to your parents later to discuss the matter. Whether they choose to press charges against Professor Dumbledore will be their decision," Dippet said, coldly. McGonagall started to cry. She looked up at Dumbledore and gave him a look he had never seen on the witch before. It was the one he gave Ginny, the one he saw Ron give Hermione. McGonagall was in love with Dumbledore. Dumbledore looked back at her, the sparkle in his eye missing. He rose from his seat and pulled out his wand.

"I'm very sorry, Armando," he said, "_Obliviate!_"

"Albus!" McGonagall yelped. "What are you doing?"

"I couldn't let him do that to you. You have such a bright future ahead, my love, and this would tarnish everything you've worked so hard for."

"Are you sure it has nothing to do with saving your career and reputation?" she spat angrily.

"Of course not!"

"Trying to keep yourself out of Azkaban, then? Or are you just embarrassed, having been in a relationship with a _student_?" she hissed the last word, making it sound as though it was an expletive. Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing. Dumbledore and McGonagall... were in a relationship? While she was a student? Then Harry thought back to the trash article Rita Skeeter had written a few years back. _Albus Dumbledore's Sexuality Revealed! Were he and Grindelwald more than "just friends?". _When he had gone to speak to Elphias and Aberforth about it, they glumly confirmed that his mentor was in fact, gay. Not that Harry cared, of course, but it was just quite a shock. But if Dumbledore was gay, then why did he get involved with McGonagall?

"You know that I couldn't care less what happened to myself as long as you were saved, Minerva. It hurts me to hear that you would think I'd do something like that."

"I told you _everything,_ Albus. I _loved_ you. And you told me the same thing! Was it a lie? Are you still in love with – _him_?" she said with a disgusted face.

"I haven't harbored any feelings for Gellert since I was a boy. But in case you were wondering, yes, I do still love you, Minerva. I always will, even though we cannot be together. I told you at the start that we shouldn't do this, but it was my own selfishness that let my guard fall. And I am truly sorry that I ever got you involved. Once I finish with the Headmaster, he will not remember walking in on us. And I hope that you will be able to, too. We cannot continue, Minerva, for your own good. You'll continue on from this, and you'll have a successful life with a man that you deserve and that deserves you," he said, finally putting his wand down.

"Ah – yes, what were we discussing, Albus?" Dippet asked with a cheerful expression.

"Oh, just Miss McGonagall wanting to drop her NEWT Transfiguration class, in exchange for the apprenticeship I arranged so she could complete her Animagus training."

"Very well, I'll see to it that your schedule is properly suited, Miss McGonagall. Good day to you both," Dippet said, ushering them from his office. The memory dissolved around Harry, and he landed back in McGonagall's room, facing a very red, very angry, old witch.


End file.
